The Cursed Towers by Kate Forsyth Page A

wassail, all over the town,
    wi' the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee!
    Love and peace to all o' ye!"
    Through the snowy streets of the city they ran, trailing colored ribbons. Everyone whose paths they crossed was invited to drink from the great bowl of hot spiced ale, which was replenished frequently from the bubbling cauldrons set up in every square. They met other wassailing parties, not so grandly dressed but with as much good cheer and enthusiasm as the young lairds and ladies from the palace. The lantern-hung streets of the city resounded with song, as voices both rough and refined caroled the refrain.
    "For it's your wassail and it's our wassail,
    wassail, wassail, all over the town,
    wi' the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee!
    Love and peace to all o' ye!"
    Isabeau danced and laughed with genuine pleasure, her doubts and anxieties melting away in the atmosphere of joy and expectancy that had transfigured the war-stricken city. She thought how wise it was of Meghan to plan this night of celebration which had fallen out of favor under Maya's rule. Everywhere she heard people toasting the new Righ and Banrigh, the return of the Coven, the birth of a new year and a new era.
    The heady warmth of the spiced ale pervaded Isa-beau's body, making her head spin and her throat bubble with laughter. Dide's arm was warm and strong around her back, his black eyes, bright as polished jet, smiling into hers. As he spun her into another strathspey she felt how lithe and slim his body was against hers, how fluidly they moved together.
    Through the icy darkness of the palace gardens the dancing promenade wound, then back into the hot, crowded hall. The flaming torches and laughing faces spun in a whirl as Dide swept Isabeau around. She was helplessly dizzy, having to clutch at his arms to keep her feet. He laughed and kissed her. Somehow they danced out of the ballroom and into the shadowed halls behind. His mouth on her throat was hot as a brand. He spoke broken words of love she hardly heard, so feverish was her response. They were lying entwined together on her bed when Lilanthe opened the door. Unable to find her friends and shy of so many strangers, the tree-shifter had thought to seek her tub of earth and go to sleep. The light from the open door streamed across the bedchamber, and Lilanthe was unable to stifle an exclamation as she saw Dide and Isabeau tangled together in a welter of unfastened clothing. The jongleur lifted his mouth from Isabeau's breast while she stared dazedly at Lilanthe across his bare back. The tree-shifter stood frozen for a moment, color flaming into her face, then she turned and ran. With a cry Isabeau clutched her clothes to her and scrambled after, calling "Lilanthe!" Dide cursed, and struggled to pull on his shirt.
    The tree-shifter ran down the corridor and plunged down the stairs, only just managing to avoid colliding with the numerous couples who stood chatting on the landings or kissing in the corners. Trying desperately to do up her bodice, Isabeau hurried after, still calling her friend's name. Dide caught her at the top of the stairs. "Come back to bed, leannan," he murmured, sliding his arm about her waist. "There is nothing we can do now . . ."
    "But did ye no' see her face? She looked absolutely stricken."
    "It was just the shock. She was no' expecting to find us so. Let it be, leannan. She'll be a wee embarrassed, but she'll get over it. Come back." He pulled her toward the bedroom, his other hand sliding up her back to cup the nape of her neck. Isabeau hesitated, staring down the stairs. The candles were all guttering in their sconces, but enough light remained to show there was no sign of Li-lanthe. With a sigh she let Dide lead her back toward her bedchamber.
    Suddenly a ripple of pain ran over Isabeau and she cried out, clutching her abdomen.
    "Wha' is it, wha' be wrong?" Dide cried, and had to support her as she swayed, her face bleached of color.
    She bent over, arms crossed over